


Overheated

by Satine86



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Romance, Suggestive Themes, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-11-02 01:23:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20574257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Satine86/pseuds/Satine86
Summary: “What’s this?” Varric asked.“A distraction. I am determined to actually understand Wicked Grace. If you wish to play, that is.” She looked at him, her face was passive but he couldn’t help but notice the hope shining in her eyes. It would be impossible to say no.





	Overheated

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Linguini](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linguini/gifts).

> Written for a tumblr prompt "Cassarric in the boiling heat." It was going to be a short thing, then it kinda spiraled...

Even though they had technically left the Western Approach, no longer camping in the middle of the desert where it oscillated wildly between blistering hot days and deceptively cold nights, and were now located in an actual inn with actual beds it was still obnoxiously hot. 

Varric preferred the heat to the cold -- it would take a miracle to get him back to the Emprise anytime soon -- but this wasn’t simply  _ hot _ . This was stifling heat that made your breath feel heavy in your chest, and like you were going to drown in the oppressive, muggy air that stuck to your skin. 

This was a definition of torture, Varric was certain. 

Worse yet, was the fact that there was nothing to do except wait out the heatwave that had even the locals wilting. The inn they had stopped at boasted a decent taproom, so Varric found a corner far away from the windows and any shaft of sunlight that might try to find its way inside, and nursed his ale. 

Unsurprisingly the drink was warm, but it would have to do. At least it tasted fine enough. The innkeeper had given out hand fans; cheap and flimsy they did little to cool one down, but again it would have to do. 

Varric found himself actually fantasizing about the cool breeze on the ramparts of Skyhold when he became aware of another patron entering the taproom, which was only noticeable because it was completely empty save himself and the barkeep. Glancing up Varric realized it was Cassandra, with another of the fans in her hand while she placed an order with the man behind the bar. 

She was stripped down more than he had ever seen before, not that he could blame her, it was just an unusual sight. Gone were her armor and gambeson, the layers of leather and metal that made her such an unrelenting force of the battlefield. Instead she was dressed simply, in items she had quickly procured at the local market; a flowing skirt that rustled with every step she took, and a surprisingly revealing blouse which she had hastily removed the sleeves from, judging by the frayed seams at the shoulders. 

Without preamble she made her way to his table and took a seat, as friends were wont to do. Because they were friends, of a fashion. Better friends by the day, which Varric found he quite liked. 

She took a long pull from her mug before setting it down gently, and relaxing back into the chair while fanning at her face. “This heat is unbearable,” she groused. 

“I thought Neverrans were used to it?” 

“No one could ever be accustomed to this.” She absently reached up to wipe her brow, even as a trickle of sweat trailed down her throat and chest before disappearing past the line of her blouse. 

Varric did his best to ignore it, but soon another bead of sweat followed the same path and against his better judgement he found himself paying far too much attention to the enticing sight. Fleeting thoughts entered his mind, thoughts he would do better to shove aside. Thoughts of following the same path with his mouth, and perhaps lower still. 

At what point Varric had developed an… infatuation with Cassandra was beyond him. All he knew was that it, like their friendship, was growing by the day. He swallowed and tore his gaze away from from the expanse of exposed skin and the column of her neck. Luckily she had her eyes closed as she fanned at her face. Studying her face Varric noticed how pink her cheeks were. The flush of heat running across the bridge of her nose, and nearly up to her temples. 

That was an even more enticing sight that led to even more foolish thoughts. Instead of dwelling on them he tilted his head back and drained the contents of his mug. It was a poor distraction, of course, but it seemed the day was all about making due with what he had. For better or worse. 

“It would be nice if there was something to take your mind off the heat. Instead we must suffer.” Cassandra grabbed her mug again, took another sip, and eyed him askance. She frowned. “Are you all right, Varric?” 

“Yeah, fine. Just… overheated.” He fanned himself for effect, but he had a feeling he would be feeling the same way were he sitting in the chilly rain and growing mold on the Storm Coast right now. Varric pushed back his chair. “I’m going for a refill.” He gestured with his mug toward hers. 

Cassandra contemplated her ale for a moment before shrugging. She did as he had, and tilted her head back to drain the contents in a long gulp. Varric could only watch haplessly at how long and graceful her neck looked, how smooth her skin seemed. 

“Might as well,” she said and handed him her empty mug. “There is nothing else to do.” 

Varric nodded dumbly and went to order refills from the barkeep. It was undoubtedly stupid to get drunk with Cassandra when he could barely keep his thoughts from running rampant while sober. But she was right: there wasn’t anything else to do. 

When Varric returned he found the table empty and Cassandra sorting through a nook in the very back of the taproom. After a moment she gave a triumphant shout. Her prize was a deck of cards that she tossed down on the table as she retook her seat.

“What’s this?” Varric asked.

“A distraction. I am determined to actually understand Wicked Grace. If you wish to play, that is.” She looked at him, her face was passive but he couldn’t help but notice the hope shining in her eyes. It would be impossible to say no. 

“Fine, I’ll teach you. Again.” He grabbed the cards and started to shuffle them.

“It is not my fault the rules are so confusing, Varric.” 

“You make them confusing, Seeker. Stop overthinking it.” 

“Pah!” She made a sour face at him, and moodily sipped her ale. 

“Let’s go over the rules real quick...” Varric said as he started dealing out the cards. 

***

It turned out Wicked Grace was the perfect distraction. The game made you focus your cards instead of the heat. It also distracted you from keeping track of how many refills you got from the barkeep. And, most importantly, it kept Varric from staring too long at Cassandra and letting his fantasies run wild.

Especially when she laughed at his jokes, or brushed her hand against his while asking about the cards and rules. Or when she decided to scoot her chair so close to his, her thigh brushed his whenever one of them shifted. 

They were in the final stages of their first serious game, having spent Maker knew how long playing practice hands that felt a bit like Varric was playing against himself, given how often he helped her with her hands. Although she’d had a breakthrough, and seemed to be doing well enough. 

Cassandra looked at him warily before laying out her cards carefully. “I believe I win?” 

Varric took a closer look at her cards and whistled. “Shit, yeah, you win.” 

“I won!” She clapped her hands in delight, almost giddy, and Varric again wondered how much they’d had to drink. Regardless, it was nice to see her happy, her eyes crinkled at the corners and shining brightly. Her smile was infectious, and Varric returned it.

As Cassandra celebrated her win, Varric realized it was now early evening and the taproom was starting to fill up with regulars and guests alike. Including the Inquisitor and Dorian, and Varric had a very sudden and very selfish urge to shoo them away. To let Cassandra and himself continue their private game. 

It seemed Cassandra had taken note of their surroundings as well. She frowned, more to herself than anything. “I liked it better when it was quiet.” 

Varric decide to seize his opportunity. What did he have to lose, after all? He took a fortifying breath and let it out slowly. 

“We could always move to one of our rooms. Maybe order something to eat?” It was extremely forward and didn’t quite sound like a proposition you would make to a friend, but that was the problem with too much ale. It made your words clumsy. 

She looked at him with wide eyes. “Yes,” she said, much to his relief. “I would like that. My room had an evening breeze yesterday. Perhaps we will luck out again tonight?” 

So they did just that, quickly gathering up their cards and mugs and sneaking quietly out of the taproom. The Inquisitor and Dorian didn’t seem to notice their presence at all. Thank the Maker. 

It was much quieter upstairs, but it was warmer too. Any relief the evening had brought downstairs seemed to only amplify the heat upstairs. Not ideal, but if it meant some peace and quiet then Varric would endure it. Happily so as he and Cassandra giggled like schoolchildren as they ascended the stairs. She turned to the right, leading the way to her room. 

“It is much nicer up here,” she said as she fitted her key into the lock. “Can you play Strip Wicked Grace with two?” 

It was said abently, Varric was certain. A joke or a thought not meant to be voiced, it didn’t matter. It had been said. There was a long pause, the silence stretching out between them until it seemed to take on a life of its own. Eventually Cassandra swallowed thickly and turned to look at Varric. Her cheeks were once again red, but Varric was certain it had little to do with the heat. 

“Pretend I did not say that out loud,” she said. 

“Too late, Seeker.” Varric could feel his heart hammering inside his chest, his mouth suddenly dry. “You can,” he blurted before he could stop himself. 

“What?” She blinked at him owlishly. 

“Play with two people. Depending on the situation it can be ideal, actually.” 

If she was taken aback by his brazenness, she didn’t show it. A true poker face. Her brows furrowed slightly as she stared at him. 

“Would you?” she asked. 

“Would  _ you _ ?”

“Varric.” It was a warning. 

“All right, all right.” He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. Nothing ventured, nothing gained he tried to reason with himself. Of course there was the potential for lose. Namely one or two appendages he might rather keep attached. Instead he went the safe route -- or was it the cowardly one? “Yeah, with the right partner. I suppose.” 

“Yes, I would as well. With the right partner.” She was standing with her hands folded in front of her, wringing them nervously. She seemed to be thinking something over, her eyes downcast but not in embarrassment. “What I mean to say is you.” 

Cassandra nodded firmly at her statement -- whether assuring herself or him, it was difficult to say -- and met Varric’s gaze. There were a lot of emotions swirling in her eyes but at the forefront, pushing everything else aside, was a question. 

It was a split second decision, borne out of excitement and relief and perhaps bolstered a little bit by the dull haze of alcohol, although he was feeling surprisingly sober again. He grabbed Cassandra’s hand and pulled gently, just enough for her to understand. She tipped forward at the waist, as graceful and self-assured as she was on the battlefield. Varric slipped his free hand behind her neck, tugging her forward a little further and laid his mouth against hers. 

The kiss was chaste, just a quick press of his lips against hers. But it was an answer. A sure one. No more dancing around their words, no need to overthink what anything meant. Just the simple fact that he cared for her. A great deal. 

Varric started to pull back, his hand going slack on the back of her neck. Before he let go completely, Cassandra reached up and grabbed his face to keep him in place. He could feel her breath fanning his chin, a little stilted. Varric wet his lips and opened his eyes. She was looking at him, her eyes softer than he had ever seen them before. It made his breath hitch. A heartbeat, and then Cassandra kissed him as her eyes fluttered shut. 

This kiss was not chaste. Her mouth slanted over his, the fingers of one hand gliding over his jaw and cheek to dig into his hair. A muffled moan sounded, and Varric wasn’t entirely certain if it had been Cassandra or himself. All he knew was that kissing Cassandra was like taking a cool sip of water after being in the desert for too long. 

When they eventually drew back, Cassandra leaned her forehead against his while they both caught their breath. Varric could feel Cassandra’s fingers in his hair, and resting gently against his jaw. She curled her fingers, nails rasping against the stubble. After a moment she kissed him again. 

“I think you should join me in my room,” she whispered against his mouth. 

“Are you sure about that?” 

She nodded gently. “Very.” 

“If this is all a ploy to win at Strip Wicked Grace, you might be on the right track, Seeker.” 

“Oh, please,” she laughed, low and throaty. “I could beat you in my sleep.” 

“Now, now who was the one who needed lessons?”

“I did need lessons, but I got them from Josephine months ago.” 

Varric jerked back in shock and amusement. “That is extremely underhanded, I’m very impressed.” 

“So you are not displeased that I lied?” 

“That depends, are you going to invite me into your room again?” 

Cassandra smiled at him, happy and sultry, and put her hand on the latch. She didn’t take her eyes off him as she slowly pushed open the door, and lifted her eyebrows in question. 

In answer, Varric did the only sensible thing: he kissed her again as they stumbled inside, kicking the door shut behind them. Everything around them was forgotten, even the oppressive heat, as they got lost in each other. 


End file.
